


A Day in the Life

by Sereko



Category: Glee
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, married!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sereko/pseuds/Sereko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three drops in time from the married life of Kurt and Blaine Anderson-Hummel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by my sweet [Ann](http://slightestwind.tumblr.com), these are three non-linear drabbles of the domestic fluff variety. The first prompt was as follows: "married!klaine domestic fluff, like kissing on fresh clean sheets."

Blaine hums to himself mindlessly as he goes about mopping the kitchen floor. Kurt queued up a new cleaning day playlist in the living room and it’s half-way through an old favorite of his from high school.

"…but tonight I’m gonna hold you so close… _mmm hmmm_ …”

He does a spin and wiggles his butt before finishing his work with a flourish in the corner. He eyes the counters, but decides to take a break and check on Kurt before busting out the Lysol.

He heard the dryer buzz a while ago, so he expects to find his husband in the bedroom folding clothes, which is why he barks out a laugh when Kurt is actually splayed face-first on their bed. Kurt pops open an eye, then closes it again after apparently deciding to ignore Blaine.

"Did the laundry get the best of you?"

"No," Kurt mumbles into feather down. "Changing the sheets did."

Blaine mewls in sympathy as he crawls up behind Kurt and lays himself on top of him. “Why didn’t you ask for my help? You know this mattress requires two people to wrangle. Those damn fitted sheets are impossible.”

"Mmm," Kurt agrees. He doesn’t offer up an explanation, though, just relaxes under Blaine’s comforting weight.

Blaine slides his hands over Kurt’s extended arms and places soft kisses to the strip of back exposed above his loose shirt collar. He nuzzles his nose against Kurt’s hairline, soaking in the mixed scent of clean skin and clean sheets. His lips catch on the scar on the side of Kurt’s neck and he pauses over it with a gust of warm breath and a questing tongue.

"Mm hey no." Kurt’s protest is weak, proven weaker when he turns his head to give Blaine a better angle. "Fresh sheets are for napping, not for sexing."

Blaine ruffles Kurt’s hair with a gusty laugh. “I wasn’t going there, but now that you mention it…” He nibbles on jaw and tendon with blunt teeth. Kurt tries to buck him off and succeeds in sliding him off his back onto the bed.

Blaine gets a strong whiff of forest glen when his head mashes into the pillows. He clutches the fabric closer to suck in another deep breath.

"Oh _gooood_ …”

When he opens his eyes, Kurt is judging him with a raised eyebrow.

"If there _is_ sex to be had, I would prefer it be with me and not the 500 thread count sheets.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #2: "Married!Klaine domestic fluff, like holding hands under the breakfast table"

Burt and Carole are in town. Kurt loves that he is at a point in his life where he has a guest room to offer them instead of the couch. There is even an extra bathroom in the hallway for their use. He wasn’t ever sure he’d be able to afford more than four walls and a Mr. Stove, and while the yard and picket fence and 2.5 kids are still a ways off, this feels good. Accomplished.

Blaine nudges him as he brings the full coffee pot to the table to refill his dad’s mug. Kurt glances away from the morning sun and refocuses on breakfast.

It’s a simple affair. He had planned for and bought ingredients for Crepes Suzette, but something about the abnormal quiet of the city and clear skies begged for fresh fruit and scones from the bakery on 6th instead.

His dad passes him slices of cantaloupe while Blaine refills his coffee mug.

"Do you need more creamer?"

"Yes, please."

"Dad, do you want another scone?"

"Yeah, sure. These things are a lot better than I expected."

It’s horribly domestic. Kurt even goes so far as to pass his dad the sports section of the newspaper (they only subscribe to the Sunday edition because he and Blaine enjoy the crossword puzzles). He listens as Blaine starts a conversation about the new quarterback on the Buckeyes and takes a sip of coffee before leaning into his side.

Blaine’s wearing his “company sweats” - which are casual enough to be comfortable, yet not so threadbare as to appear improper in front of close company. Kurt runs his fingers over the heathered cotton covering Blaine’s thigh. He swirls paisley patterns aimlessly while spearing chunks of melon with his fork.

Blaine intercepts one bite mid-conversation and grins at Kurt’s indignant stare as he chews. He pats consolingly over Kurt’s hand still on his thigh, then curls his fingers around the edge of Kurt’s palm to hold it there.

Kurt steals the last piece of Blaine’s bacon in retaliation.

"Kurt, your water pressure is horrible," Carole announces as she walks into the room.

"I know, I’m sorry. This building is old and you can only get good spray if you’re one of the first five people to shower in the morning." He grimaces in sympathy, but Carole just waves his concern away.

"I’m just giving you a hard time. I love the new color scheme you have in there."

She sits in the empty spot next to Burt, kisses him on the cheek, then snags a blueberry scone from the basket in the center of the table. Kurt loves visits for moments just such as this - the day to day that is overlooked but often says more about a person than monthly catch-all phone calls. He knows from the affection and the teasing, as Carole slaps Burt’s hand when he tries to drink some of her orange juice, that things are good. Better than last year when Burt’s job had him away more than home and Finn’s anniversary hit harder than in most years.

He squeezes Blaine’s hand and rests temple to shoulder.

The first honks of the day sound outside their window. The upstairs neighbors wake up and putter from one room to the next. A door slams down the hall.

The cocoon of his quiet morning starts to slip away, so Kurt traces Blaine’s wedding band to center himself again.

"Love you," Blaine murmurs against the crown of his head.

"Love you, too." He kisses Blaine’s shoulder where his lips are already half-smooshed into his sweater and threads their fingers together.

This “adult” thing isn’t half bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #3: "Married!Klaine domestic fluff, like one falling asleep watching tv and the other putting him to bed"

Blaine had never put much thought into what it would be like to live with someone. His brand of enthusiasm and spontaneity doesn’t lend itself to the bothersome wonderings of which side of the sink his toothbrush will end up on (turns out it’s the left when he was used to the right and he had several embarrassing flails in the beginning when he nearly knocked it into the toilet).

It isn’t until a promise becomes a binding oath that the minutia of daily life comes to the forefront.

For instance, Kurt always sits on the side of the couch nearest the window. He is like a pup, stretching into the sun. And, even though it is nighttime, he is still perched in his usual spot with a mug of tea and the latest catalogues piled in his lap. Technically, it’s junk mail - their names added to some listserve somewhere that sends them not only magazines of the stores they actually shop at, but all related affiliates - but for all the griping Kurt does about them clogging up their mail box, he window-shops through every one.

Blaine is usually allowed full control of the TV on nights like these. Kurt always says he is too distracted to pay attention. Sometimes, Blaine will put on sports, Monday Night Football if his teams are playing or the World Series regardless of the teams. Sometimes, it’s the Food Network - ok, more often than not, it’s the Food Network. Blaine may not be the best chef, but he’s determined to give Kurt a run for his money one of these days. Lately, though, it’s Bravo as all their favorite reality TV shows are starting up again.

“Chopped or Project Runway?”

“Mm, Project Runway. We missed last week’s, didn’t we?” Kurt is flagging a tweed jacket from Burberry as he asks.

“Oh yeah, you’re right.”

Blaine settles in after he queues up the latest episode, deciding against grabbing his iPad to occupy his time during commercial breaks. He wants the peace that comes without any distractions. Sympathizing with Tim Gunn’s latest recruits requires periodic two and half minute breaks anyway.

It’s not until after the episode - their favorites are still in the competition - and after Top Chef, with a brief pause for the highlights of the evening news, that he checks on Kurt again.

The tea is cold, a water ring on the thankfully _glass_ coffee table. Three catalogues are stacked on the floor by the couch. The fourth is hanging on for dear life between Kurt’s thumb and forefinger. Kurt, who is no longer browsing, with eyes slipped shut and his head resting against the arm he has propped up on the back of the couch.

Most people would assume he had a long day at work or he didn’t get enough sleep the night before. But Blaine just smiles fondly because he knows this is a nightly occurrence. Kurt tries to stay up, at least until the late night talk shows, but he rarely makes it past primetime.

The majority of their friends are night owls and Blaine himself finds it hard to fall asleep before midnight, regardless of what time he wakes up in the morning, so Kurt feels like he has to match them. Early bed times are associated with age, which he wants desperately to avoid.

But the Sandman doesn’t respect his wishes and, almost always, Blaine finds he’s watching TV alone after not too long a time.

“Kurt,” he calls softly, reaching towards the couch from his spot in the leather wingback. “Kurt, sweetheart, why don’t you go to bed?”

Kurt is unresponsive. Blaine pushes further forward so he can jostle Kurt’s knee. Williams Sonoma makes a dive for freedom. The sound of it joining its companions is enough to have Kurt snuffle closer to the crook of his elbow with a low moan.

“Honey,” he calls again.

“Hmm?” Kurt blinks at Blaine, feigning wakefulness.

“You should go to bed.”

“No,” Kurt protests with an adorable frown. “I want to keep you company.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not much of a conversationalist when you’re asleep.”

“ _Nooo_ , I’m fine.” He blinks harder, sits up straighter, surreptitiously wipes a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”

Blaine gives him a lopsided smile. His thumb continues rubbing over Kurt’s knee.

“I am! Really. I want to see the end of this episode.”

Ah, the stubborn streak. It’s always best to give up any fight when it rears its head.

Ten minutes later, Blaine hears a rhythmic puff of breath and is unsurprised to see Kurt asleep again, his mouth slightly parted. If he’s watching something he can’t miss, Blaine will usually either wake Kurt up again with a second attempt at convincing him to go to bed where it’s more comfortable or just let him sleep through the rest of the show. The Quintessential Beef Bourguignon can wait, though.

After bussing their mugs, turning off the TV and placing the catalogues in an orderly pile on the credenza, Blaine hovers over Kurt’s sleeping form.

One of the many perks of living with someone, his husband to boot, are quiet moments of innocent vulnerability like these. He brushes aside Kurt’s bangs, follows the hairs behind his ear and down the back of his neck, places a soft kiss to the frown line between Kurt’s eyes and slips his arms under his back and legs.

He lifts with his knees and almost overcompensates into the coffee table - this isn’t as easy without Kurt’s conscious assistance. Speaking of–   

“Blaine?” Kurt questions against his shoulder.

“Shh, sweetheart. We’re going to bed.”

“We are? But the show–” Kurt slits his eyes open enough to see that the lights are off, the apartment quiet and Blaine is holding him bridal style. He snakes his hands up and around Blaine’s neck to shift into a more secure hold. “Oh. Good,” he murmurs.

Blaine nudges him with his nose. He takes the opportunity to breathe in long and deep the scent of spice and pine and berry compote. He flexes his arms to squeeze Kurt closer before finally skirting the couch and heading towards the bedroom.

It’s not a loud declaration of love, nor an elaborate romantic gesture, not even something anyone else might ever witness. It’s just them. In the day-to-day. Living and loving each other.

And Blaine couldn’t be happier. 


End file.
